


When I Wasn't There

by TheMourningMadam



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:49:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24363088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMourningMadam/pseuds/TheMourningMadam
Summary: Hermione finds her way back to Draco, a little bruised and battered, but whole. He ruminates over how strong and brave his fierce little witch really is.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 1
Kudos: 23





	When I Wasn't There

Draco's entire body vibrated with the urgent need to see his witch—to examine her, to kiss her, to touch her. They'd spent far too many weeks apart and her weakened magic was a Siren's call. His heart was thundering in his chest, the blood rushing behind the shell of his ear like the roar of the ocean.

 _She's safe. She's safe._ It was a crude mantra running through his mind, though his body felt like it were being ripped in two between alternating sickened relief and a worry so great it would surely bring him to his knees. Though they had delicately danced and even ferociously fought their way around the subject, there was absolutely no denying that he was in love with the persnickety little witch.

He sat on his bed, his head between his knees and cradled in his hands, trying to steady his breathing, his heart rhythm, the fucking pounding of magic and vengeful anger surging through him. The roaring had almost quieted enough that he could hear Molly tending to her, helping her to bathe, fussing over her forcibly altered appearance.

He stood from the bed and began pacing in the dim candle light of his room. The scales on his arm shimmered and tingled as the malice laced within his magic brought back the dormant memories of Dark Magic in his veins. _I will kill them all._

He raked his fingers through his hair, tugging to raise prickles across his scalp— anything to bring some feeling back to the utterly exhausted terror and wrath he was experiencing. It was taking Molly entirely too long to get Granger cleaned up. _Something is wrong._ Breath pillowed in hot puffs from his nostrils, akin to a bull chasing a matador's muleta. _Enough waiting._

Just as Draco's hand curved around the door knob, a soft knock sounded on the other side. He flung the door open with more than sufficient voracity to reveal his witch, his soulmate, his absolute everything.

Granger stood in the dark corridor outside of his room, self-consciously picking at the sleeve of a jumper that hung like a tent over her emaciated frame. Her weight was at the lowest he had ever seen and he mentally took inventory of the ingredients that still remained in his thinning supply, calculating the risk of brewing a nourishment potion without a dragonfly wing.

The tears welled in her eyes and a sob bubbled up through her throat before she let go of her discomfited facade and threw herself into his chest. Draco wrapped his arms around her tiny frame, toeing his door shut as he held her. Her cries echoed through his chest, rattling his heart and he closed his eyes, baring himself against the sound. He could do little more than to offer, " _I'm sorry,"_ over and over between shushing noises.

He ran his hand over her hair, once an obscene amount of bushy curls, now cropped close to her scalp. "The humiliation," she choked, her fingers clawing into his shirt and tears still staining the fabric. "I've never felt so inhuman in my life."

Desperate not to imagine the vile, cruel, and torturous things the Death Eaters had done to her during her time locked within the Mourning Fields, Draco placed a crown of kisses along her hairline. "It's over now. They're dead. They'll never be able to touch you again."

Granger pulled back from him, her eyes swollen with anguish, and gestured at her appearance. "Look at me," she murmured, a quiet, strangled whisper between them.

"I am looking at you," Draco began, the raw emotions he was experiencing lowering every defense he'd ever raised to keep her at arm's length. "You're beautiful. You always have been and you always will be."

Her bottom lip, cracked and pale, trembled as she leaned into him once more, burying her face and inhaling his scent. "Everything is so numb, and yet I feel so out of control."

He pulled back, regretting the decision the moment cool air filtered between them. "You've been through so much these last few weeks. Yet, you made it out, you stubbornly courageous witch," he reminded her, running his palms over her arms in an effort to warm her further. "You're here with me, in my room— _our_ room—alive and in one physical piece."

"I never thought I'd see you again. Every day, every round of torture, I was certain it would end with my last breath."

"I'm here. We're here _together_ ," Draco reassured her, wiping tears from her sallowed cheeks.

With subtle quivers in her legs, Granger lifted onto the tips of her toes and placed her lips against his in a watery peck. "I love you." It was little more than a wisp of a breath that ghosted over his lips, but the words ignited a fire within him.

Draco closed the gap between them, dropping his hands to her waist and pulling her close. "We're," his hand slid up over her side, " _fucking_ ," her body saddled against his completely, "foolish," his lips kissed one corner of her mouth, "we are," and then the other corner. Bringing his hands to support the fragile curves of her jaw, he closed his eyes, his mouth close enough to hers to taste the peppermint toothpaste. "All of the months we've _wasted_ because we couldn't say it aloud."

The fortress wall he had been carefully erecting to save himself from the pain of losing her crumbled around his mind forcefully, leaving him vulnerable and exposed as he brought his lips to hers once more. Her fingers danced over the bare skin of his hips, icy against his scorching flesh. "I need you."

Her words niggled at his brain, awakening the realization that she had just been through hell. Draco opened his eyes and she was staring at him, her eyes glassy with tears. " _I need you,"_ she repeated, splaying her hands fully over his hips.

"Hermione," fuck, he thought his heart would tear from his chest at the sound of her fucking pleas, "I'm not so sure it's a good idea right now. After everything they did to you."

"I need to know that it doesn't have to be about defiling and debasing me. I need to remember what it feels like to be touched with reverence and love. I can't stand the memory of their hands touching—" Her voice broke and she shook her head gently as she pursed her lips. "I refuse to allow them to steal that from me. To thieve away the one thing that holds any meaning to me anymore—us."

Draco swiped at a tear that fell from the crinkled corner of her eye and brushed his lips to hers, moving his hands slowly over her collarbones, down her sides as his thumbs brushed her modest bust, to rest at the hem of her sweater. "If you need to stop at any point, you are to tell me, do you understand?"

"I won't—"

"Do you _understand?_ " he demanded softly, holding her gaze in place with a piercing and severe stare of his own.

There wasn't a thing in the world that would feel any better to him than to lay with his witch, to claim her as his own once more. But he knew his touch could bring her more harm than pleasure. It could reignite memories she was trying so desperately to repress with her request and cause her to break down. A year before, Draco wouldn't have thought twice about fucking her, no matter the circumstances. But too much had happened between them, they'd grown far too entwined to take her like a common harlot. He'd spent a year learning her— her likes, dislikes, fears, ambitions, regrets. She was fierce and formidable, but the underlying uncertainty she clung to was brittle and could undo her sanity.

Granger gave him a single nod and drew her bottom lip between her teeth to steady the quivers. Draco closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to hers as his hands went beneath the hem of her jumper, his thumbs hooking to pull the fabric achingly slow over her hips and sides. Her fingers tugged at the top of his joggers, aligning their bodies wholly. Pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose, he broke contact to lift the soft fabric and pull it free of her.

Wearing only a pair of knickers, she stood before him, bashful in her exposed and altered countenance. Bruises—some a fresh violet, and some an aged yellow—littered her body, broken only by a web of fresh scars that marred her smooth skin. Draco had to close his eyes briefly, guilt burning in his throat like acidic bile. Every new mark, gash, abrasion was a result of his inability to save her; to keep her from harm. The regret was so strong that he was finally brought to his knees before her, unable to stand for all of the shame that wracked him.

Granger crossed her arms over her chest, worry etching a line between her brow as she tried to retrieve her jumper from the floor. Draco grabbed her hips, holding her steadfast in the place before him. His voice shook with unrestrained emotion and loosely tethered malevolence when he lifted his face to meet her eyes. "No," he commanded in a hoarse rasp, "show me what they did to you. Every mark. Every scar."

Her face contorted into pained confusion as he pried her arms away from her chest. "Why?"

"I want to see for myself every time you've been hurt and needed a healing touch. Every time you've needed me and I wasn't there."

Granger opened her mouth to protest. "Draco—"

He silenced her by resting his forehead between her breasts, grazing his lips along a raised, lavender-hued scar on her sternum. "Nothing you can say will ever make me forgive myself for not being there when you needed me most. I tried so hard to keep you safe and I turned my back for one second and you were taken from me. That is unforgivable."

Tears splashed from her chin and landed on his own cheek as he stared up at her. Pushing her fingers into his hair, she lowered herself until she was on her knees as well. She brought her hand to rest over the place he'd just kissed and brought the other to his jaw. "Listen to me. This is not your fault," she tipped his head up to look him in the eye. " _None of this is your fault."_

He heard the words she spoke to him, tried his hardest to believe them. But he knew, deep inside that she was wrong. Running a finger along a deep cleft in her left shoulder, he knew that he had failed to protect her and she had paid a lofty price. The guilt welled within, nearly knocking him off course as he stared vacantly at a cluster of Cruciatus scars. His brain absurdly tried to rearrange the dots into some primitive constellation, to find beauty in the remnants of her ruin.

Her hands ran over the expanse of his chest, fluttering with low tremors as she still sobbed silently. The horrors that scattered along her body were hideous in that they were unnecessary and told of unimaginable tortures she had faced. But Draco looked past that and drank in the sight of her as a whole.

 _She survived._ Raking his eyes over every new slash and bruise, he took note of the various possible curses she had managed to survive. His witch was victorious. These were battle wounds, telling the story of how she'd fought for her life at every encounter. Fearsome. Courageous. A warrior. The remorse he had fought to swallow down was slowly being replaced with a new emotion— _pride_. He kissed along her collar, holding her hips gently against his own and he paid homage to each mar. He would get his retribution, in the end. The guards responsible for this may have been killed, but the Dark Lord and more followers still remained, and Draco wouldn't back down until they were all crucified. But for now? For now he studied each testament to her bravery with awe.

"Never again," he vowed quietly, finally bringing his lips back to hers.

Her hands slid into his hair to pull him closer as her tongue slipped between his teeth. Merlin, how he'd worried; how he'd nearly gone insane with it. And here she was in front of him, wrapped around him, kissing him with an agonizing tenderness.

Draco had never been one for romantic love-making, opting instead for sizzling encounters in the pantry, on his workbench, in the dueling hall. Something in the broken, battered way Granger held herself, all the while putting on an air of strength to try and mask what he saw, had him craving slow and methodical. He feared shattering her when he lifted her into his lap where he sat on the floor and vanished their remaining articles of clothing silently.

Sitting with his back to the bed frame, Draco took his time, dragging only the tips of his fingers along her skin in loving caresses. This was war, but she had made it back to him. Merlin, he thought he would implode with gratitude to the gods who allowed for her return. "You're beautiful," he whispered reassuringly.

As though she couldn't help it, her hand went self-consciously to her close cropped hair. He shook his head and grasped her wrist in his hand. "You're beautiful," he repeated with more conviction in his tone.

Without the mass of curls surrounding her face, Granger's eyes were larger, more doe-like as she peered at him. The light from his candles flickered across the mahogany depths and he repeated himself for the third time, barely speaking audibly when he realized just how true his statement was. He placed his hands in the gaps where her hips had started to protrude in her malnourished state, covering the areas protectively as he pulled her closer, aligning her core with himself. "I'll stop. You just say the word and this will end."

Granger dropped her head into the crook of his shoulder as she sank down onto him, a squeak of relief escaping against the skin of his neck. He felt, rather than saw her flinch, as she began a slow, meaningful rocking. He cupped his hand at the back of her head, sorrowful that they had managed to take the one thing that had ever made her feel feminine in appearance; angry that they had humiliated her in such a manner. Her hands glided hesitantly over his abdomen between them and her face was angled in a way that he knew she was surveying his own scars.

Warm, wet droplets fell across his chest, landed in a puddle at his collarbone as she cried silently. Draco wrapped his arms protectively around her back, tucking her body into his so that her movement was limited. As good as her slick heat felt wrapped around him, the feel of her heart thudding against his bare chest was far more gratifying. He buried his face into the crook of her neck, mirroring her as he inhaled her clean scent.

"I'll never let anyone hurt you again," he promised, his voice muffled by the flesh of her neck before he nipped at the very spot.

"Say it," she implored and instinctively, Draco knew precisely what she needed to hear.

He lifted his head and angled hers upright so he could kiss along her heart-shaped jawline before hovering just over her lips. "I love you. I've never said it, but I've felt it. Since the first time I saw you tending my arm."

Closing his eyes to shield her from the utterly incompetent vulnerability he felt, he brought his lips to hers, thrusting his hips upward slightly to match her moves. A groan caught in her throat at the feel as she wrapped her arms around his neck and clinged to him like ivy to stone. He placed a heavy hand between her shoulder blades to calm her cries, saddened at how prominently the bone moved beneath his fingertips.

Her nipples brushed over his chest with each movement they made, hardening them into taut peaks as he brought a hand to play over her. Granger covered his fingers with her own, guiding them in circles over her bud as she looked down between them at their collective ministrations.

A frown graced her pretty features and he stilled. "Do you want to stop?"

Shaking her head, frustration was evident in her voice. "They can't take this from me."

"Don't think of them now," Draco instructed in a far calmer tone than he felt. "Close your eyes and think of only us. Of how this makes you feel now."

She did as he instructed, her wet eyelashes resting over freckled skin. "Listen only to my voice," he continued, bringing her fingers into a faster pace. "You're safe. There's only you and I."

He ran his other hand between their bodies, glancing over each breast in turn. Granger's body began to shake and he feared another round of sobbing cries. "You're mine, you barmy little witch. And _no one_ will ever take you from me again."

Granger huffed a laugh, looking up to meet his fiery gaze. Placing her hands on either of his shoulders, she rolled her hips more quickly, small breaths escaping between parted lips each time his upward thrusts met her sensitive core. "I want him dead," she murmured, a fearsome glint flashing across her features just as the candle on his desk extinguished and a cold chill whispered around them.

"I'll kill him with my bare hands if I have to," Draco promised, watching as Granger clenched her eyes closed and came unwound around him in one...two...three more thrusts. His name tumbled from her lips, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

Underneath all of the aching melancholy, the ferocious relief, and the horrific reminders of their time apart, Granger looked at peace for the first time since he'd opened his door. Grasping her face between his hands, Draco ran his thumb over her lips and she leaned into the touch, once again moving her hips until his own climax forced his head to drop back against the mattress.

"We should rest," she mentioned, yanking the quilt from his bed and creating a tent around them as she tucked it over their heads and kissed him sweetly.

"We have a war to end," he agreed, groaning as she kissed along the column of his neck.

He would end this fucking war, the promise of endless days with his witch too sweet a deal to ignore.

o-o-o

**Author's Note:**

> A future scene from His Sweet Oleander. Please review and let me know what you think!


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